Lies Between The Sheets
by GhostHelwig
Summary: Ed wants more than he knows he should... An Ed and Al fic. Rated M for slash and sexual situations, including incest. You have been warned.


Disclaimer – I do not own or profit from Fullmetal Alchemist. And I never will. That's about as likely as Ed suddenly being over six feet tall... ('lol')

Rated M for sexual situations, slash, and **INCEST**. Yes, **_INCEST_**. This has been clearly labeled as an Ed/Al story, so **read at your own discretion**. That is all.

Written for the recent contest at the elricest community on livejournal. This fic took second place in the long smut category (smut, who? Me? _Never_. 'lol'), for which I am amazed and grateful. Check out the community (at www. livejournal. com /community /elricest, without the spaces) for fics and art that are much greater than my own.

Anyway, enjoy. Peace, all.

--X-X-X--

Lies (Between The Sheets)

by Ghost Helwig

--X-X-X--

_I believe in you, Big Brother_.

Do you, Al? Do you really?

_I believe in you._

But that's a _mistake_, Al. Such a mistake.

--X-X-X--

Ed was sitting by another window in another room not theirs, staring out at another street they would never call home. Al watched him, wondering what his big brother was thinking – wondering if he'd _ever_ know what his big brother was thinking.

"Ed?"

Such a soft question, delivered in the soft voice his armor had somehow allowed him to retain. _Is my voice a part of my soul, then?_

Ed always reacted as though it was – even now, he turned at the sound of it, forcing out a smile that was an ill-fit on his face. Al tried to smile back, but of course he couldn't - armor couldn't smile. Yet he always tried...

"Why don't you believe in God?"

Not the question Al had _wanted_ to ask, not really, but it was so much _safer_ than the other (_do you love me, Ed? Really love me?_).

Ed turned back to the window. "Don't waste your time thinking about that, Al," he chided, voice unusually gruff. "We need to be focusing on more important things, like finding the Philosopher's Stone."

Of course. The Stone. They had so many of their hopes pinned on it, they focused on it so much already, Al could've resented it – if he were the kind of person prone to resentment. But that Alphonse Elric was not, had never been, could never be, so though it made him sad, knowing Ed was doing this for him but that it took Ed _away_ from him, he put such selfish sentiments aside. Ed was so good to him, better than any older brother needed to be; it would be wrong of him, churlish of him, to desire more...

And yet, he could feel himself starting to speak, a sensation made strange by the fact that he had none of the things within him that made speech possible and he knew it – no voice box, no tongue, no warm inviting mouth...

Not like Ed's mouth, Ed's body, at all.

"When we get our bodies back, Brother," he whispered, "what will we do?"

Ed glanced back at him, and this time a smile was lighting his whole face, from lips to sparkling golden eyes.

"C'mon, Al. What _won't_ we do?"

Inside himself, Al smiled.

--X-X-X--

_Al was glaring at him, as much as a suit of armor_ could_ glare. _Accusing him – _that's what those hollow eyes were doing. Al knew, knew all his secrets, all his failures, all his hidden, disgusting desires..._

_"Do you hate me, Al?" he asked. Didn't want to know the answer, didn't want to know but _had_ to, he was built that way, because the truth was always something he sought out and this particular Truth mattered more than most others - and Al smiled, metal lips curling in an unmistakable smirk._

_"Why, Big Brother. Of _course _I do."_

Ed woke up clawing the bedsheets.

Al never slept, not really – his mind shut down, but it was more like an extreme form of meditation rather than sleep. (While waiting for Ed to recover from losing two of his limbs, Aunt Pinako had taught Al meditation, wise enough to know that if he stayed awake day after day, insanity would soon follow.) So he didn't need to wake up in order to go to Ed's side.

Ed blinked up at him, this huge, imposing suit of armor that housed all that was left of his beloved brother, and felt that old familiar _ache_ begin somewhere below his stomach. It physically _hurt_, thinking of all Al had lost, all Ed had taken from him...

He opened his arms.

It was awkward; Al was not meant to climb into his arms, not anymore. (_The elder brother held the younger as he slept, breathing the scent of his skin, a comfort in a world where they had nothing._) But Ed was adamant, and Al was needing, or maybe it was the other way around – and either way they were learning, learning how to work around the limitations of bedding down with iron.

Ed rested his head on a chest so cold and hard it seemed to burn into his skin; the upper half of his body had to be draped over Al in order for him to even see his younger brother's face. But he _had_ to see him, always had to see him, as though somehow, someway, he would see Al's real, human eyes looking at him...

He never saw what he was looking for. He wondered what Al saw when he looked at _him_. Did he see smooth skin where only automail remained, or did their shared metal limbs grant him some sort of unwelcome peace...?

Ed never could find the guts to ask.

Though it was impossible to say for sure, he knew Al was staring at him. Al did that a lot, even when they weren't this close together – just stared at him, memorizing him from head to the tips of his toes... He stretched, preened, under Al's gaze now, deliberately, and Al laughed.

The laughter faded too quickly. Ed bent his head down to Al's chest, pressed his lips above where his heart would be if he still had one. (_And you do, Al. I swear that you do._) His lips came away cool.

It wasn't fair. Al was such a _warm_ person, his body should have been warm, too...

Gently, carefully, Ed bent and flicked his tongue over the metal he knew would only heat if he shared his own bodily warmth, licked up and down where Al's nipple should have been, _would have been_ if Ed hadn't screwed up _both_ their lives...

He was so caught up in the never-ending cycle of his guilt he didn't hear Al whimpering beneath him until Al's iron fingers wound in his hair. He looked up, amazed – Al couldn't feel what he was doing, couldn't feel _anything_, not anymore...

Oh.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked away, ashamed. How foolish and cruel of him, teasing his brother with what he could never have-

What Al couldn't possibly _want_, anyway.

"Ed-"

He shook his head, waving his hand vaguely to quiet Al – Al, whose voice had sounded strained, not at all like him. _He's disgusted by you, you damn fool, letting yourself get carried away, scaring him – what if I really _scared_ him? Can I talk myself out of this? Can I say anything that won't make me sound like the pervert I am?_

He licked his lips. He could still taste the iron on his tongue-

"Ed, just come here."

But he _couldn't_.

"Ed... please?"

_That's not fair, Al. That's not fair at all._

But he turned back anyway, watched with disbelieving, curious eyes as Al moved, as Al literally _opened up_-

Then he understood.

This shouldn't have been so easy. But it was. He climbed inside his younger brother, and it was just... easy.

Al closed around him. It took a moment for Ed's eyes to adjust to the dimness, but the moonlight managed to filter through Al's eyeholes, to shimmer on the dark symbol not far from his head-

He slid a little lower, suddenly nervous. He couldn't let anything happen to that anchor, to the only tangible thing holding Al here-

"If you ever leave, Al," he said softly, "I hope you know I'm going with you."

Al's voice was just a whisper, but it still seemed loud; echoing around him, surrounding him... encompassing him in warmth.

"I'm not going anywhere."

_But you will. When I get you your body back, you won't need me anymore, you won't depend on me – you're gonna move on, little brother. We'll grow apart. And that's good, right? It's natural. I can let this go, let these feelings go, once you're whole again and moving on..._

There was a lump in Ed's throat – it felt like all the words he couldn't say, all the tears he couldn't shed, all the secrets he held, were all bunched up there, trying to choke him... He swallowed around it, repeatedly, until he could breathe again.

"I can feel your doubts, Big Brother. You've got no faith in me at all, do you?"

Ed bristled, was about to bark out an angry retort that probably would've hurt his own ears and just amused Al, when Al spoke again. The sound of it rumbled in Ed's chest.

"But I can prove it to you."

"Oh yeah?" Ed hated himself at that moment, hated how cocky, condescending, and _false_ he sounded, but he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop. "How?"

There was a whisper, a murmur so low he couldn't hear it, even though it should've hit his ears loud and clear. Impatiently he tapped inside Al's head, careful not to even brush that forbidding blood stain with his arm. Al laughed again, and this time, this close, Ed could feel it along his bones, feel it connect straight to his groin, making him blush-

Al whispered again, a little louder, and now Ed could hear it and feel it and oh my _God_, it sent blood careening through his body-

"I want to feel you... touch yourself... brother."

_Wha_

"I want to show you... how much I... how much I really love you, and I... but I... I _can't_..." He broke off suddenly, not liking the whine in his own voice. But Ed suddenly couldn't hear him anyway, not above the pounding of his own heart and the quick, agitated (_excited, impossibly excited_) rush of blood within his own veins.

_But _why_ – You don't – You can't possibly – This isn't real – I'm still dreaming – And I don't care-_

_I don't _care

He always slept shirtless (_and I can feel you along my skin even where we _don't_ touch, Al; I feel you everywhere_), but undressing completely was out of the question – he could never shimmy totally out of his clothes in such a confined space. So he pushed his shorts down just enough, fighting off shyness, wishing Al would speak again and grateful that he didn't...

He cupped himself with burning fingers, elbow jutting into Al's metal insides, arm twisting only semi-comfortably beneath him. Ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous, it would prove nothing, and all he'd get out of it was a cramp-

But then, Al _moaned_.

Such a small sound, but it vibrated all the way up his spine, lighting something in his brain; something _primal_. He could do this, because Al wanted it, wanted to see and feel and know even though he couldn't possibly be seeing or hearing or feeling or _knowing_ anything –

Al wanted. Therefore, he would provide. Whatever the hell the consequences turned out to be.

_Mustang would say I'm going to hell for this, I bet. But he doesn't realize-_

He thrust into his hand, brushing Al with his fingers on the downward thrust, and Al moaned around him like he could feel it with his skin when he _had_ no skin, nothing to feel with but metal that could never mimic the sensation of human flesh (and Ed would know)-

_This is already my hell._

Ed didn't bother with his hand anymore – not with Al making _those sounds_ that set his skin aflame, with Al surrounding him on all sides and the heat he was creating making sweat drip down his face, his chest. Instead he thrust directly against Al, slick and newly warmed iron bad for friction but he didn't care, couldn't possibly care. Because this was as close as he could get – it was all he _would_ get. All he'd ever get.

_I made it for myself._

He was thrusting quicker, and Al was whimpering again, and he understood – Al couldn't really feel like he could, but he _did_ feel. How could he think he didn't? He was just as bad as that little voice in Al's head that had been telling him he wasn't human.

Perhaps he was responsible for that voice, too.

Time enough to berate himself later. What mattered right then was that Al _had_ felt pleasure when he licked him, when he pushed against him – maybe not physical pleasure in the strictest sense, but still _pleasure_. And that was something, right?

That had to be _something_.

He pushed harder, faster, hit his back against Al's front and cried out. Al echoed him a split-second later, and Ed could feel those tears in his eyes again, those tears that simply branded him as _weak_-

And then, finally, he was coming hard inside his brother, and it was so _close_ to what he wanted that for a moment a hint of the peace he so desired touched him (_and that was wrong, for one so undeserving of peace as he_). He collapsed against Al, hearing the echoes of Al's voice fading away around him. A few silent tears escaped his eyes.

"I love you, Al," he whispered. But he fell asleep (_in the wet spot and all_) before he could hear what answer Al gave, if any.

--X-X-X--

Another day, another train ride.

Ed was staring blindly out one window, Al another. They hadn't spoken in hours.

It was quietly driving Ed just a little bit mad.

But what could he say, now that he'd done the unforgivable? What could he _possibly_ say?

_I love you - I'm sorry - If you want me to go away I will – If you want me to shut up and die I can do that too – But don't freeze me out, Al – I couldn't bear it if I turned you cold-_

"You're going to catch a cold, brother. Close the window."

He glanced up, and Al was looking at him, face unreadable because it wasn't really a _face_, not a human one at any rate, not one that moved and expressed and contained nuances of texture and movement that armor could never achieve in a million years...

_I stole Al's face_.

He wanted to cry. Maybe sob incoherently on Al's steel shoulder.

He reached up instead, blindly, closing the window.

They fell back into silence.

--X-X-X--

They couldn't go on like this. Not speaking, barely looking at each other – it wasn't right. Wasn't healthy.

It was, in fact, going to get Ed killed.

His line of work was too dangerous for him to be distracted by little things like (_how the_ hell _he was going to get Al to not_ hate _him anymore_) a fight with his younger brother. Distraction led to carelessness. Carelessness led to death.

Despite what Ed thought of his brother's current feelings (and what Al thought of – _feared during_ – his brother's depression), neither of them wanted that.

So Al – always the one willing to put his pride away, to back down for the sake of Ed's – was the one who broke the silence.

_He breaks silences. I break lives._

"Ed... what's wrong with you?"

Ed blinked over at him, forced to look at the huge steel form he'd bonded his brother's soul to (_trapped his brother's helpless soul within_) just so he could see what emotion showed in that faceless form. Of course he couldn't see anything. That never once stopped him from looking, from trying to see more than would ever be there...

"I..." _didn't mean to hurt you, Al, never meant to take it that far_ "I just... don't feel like talking." _Ever._ "You understand." _Please, please understand._

Al's armor head was still turned in his direction. Ed couldn't turn away, though he wanted to. Badly. Oh so very _badly_.

"I believe in you, Big Brother," Al whispered, just when Ed had thought maybe Al would stay quiet, would respect his solemn silence and icy distance and leave him alone. He really should've known better. _I believe in you, Big Brother._

_Do you, Al? Do you really?_

"I believe in you."

A little louder, this time. As though Ed hadn't heard him; Ed couldn't help _but_ hear him.

_But that's a_ mistake_, Al. Such a mistake._ Too bad he knew Al would never believe that if he told him.

However...

There was something else he could do. Something that would sever this horrible hold he had over Al, something that would spare them both so much pain in the future-

_-something that will let me run – let me hide – let me fall on my own-_

-if he could just get Al to believe him. And after he'd nearly blown it all the night before...

_I believe in you._

But then again...

Maybe his cover wasn't blown at all.

So he said it, let the lie spread over his tongue, sink deep into his bones and freeze what was left of his heart.

"I'm in love with Winry."

--X-X-X--

They didn't talk about his confession. They didn't talk at all, after that. The silence was ice in his already frozen veins.

He wondered if that was what Al felt like, in that cage of steel and not-muscle created by a well-intentioned but ultimately fruitless attempt to 'save' him. As though anyone could be considered saved, when they were forced to live inside a blanket of unfeeling iron...

Or maybe Al _did_ feel, in some weird, not-human, not-quite-normal way – he hadn't yet figured that out, how it might work, and he was never going to ask Al – and maybe Al wasn't cold at all, ever. That thought was vaguely comforting.

Until it occurred to him, when they got off at their station, that just because one wasn't cold didn't mean one was _warm_.

_Have I condemned you to a life of numbness, Al?_

Al looked at him, couldn't even force a fake smile onto a face that was unable to do such a small human thing as smile.

_God... I'm afraid maybe I have._

He turned away. He couldn't look anymore.

--X-X-X--

Roy Mustang was at first utterly unwilling to send Edward Elric out on a mission so soon after his return from the last one, purely because thwarting Edward Elric was a favorite pastime of his (or so Edward Elric firmly believed. And he was not, precisely, _wrong_). But after a few days of - what Roy called 'whining' and Ed called 'negotiating in a deliberately less than pleasant tone' and everyone _else _agreed was definitely very loud (and very annoying) – _arguing_, Roy finally agreed to send him out again. Somewhere West. Ed neither knew nor cared where.

Roy told him, of course. Gave him mission parameters and everything. Ed sincerely hoped some thoughtful person would think to send written instructions along to him before he left (he knew that bastard Colonel wouldn't, just to be difficult), because he had absolutely no _clue_ where he was going. Or why. That hardly mattered.

What mattered was the getting gone. As fast as possible, preferably.

But before the leaving, there was the explaining. He hoped – in vain, he was pretty sure – that it would prove to be less painful than the three days he was 'forced' to be in the Colonel's face. (_Why_ oh why did Mustang have to make it so damn _hard_ to get his own way?)

He finally entered the room he was sharing with Al – only to be confronted by one large, seriously pissed off suit of armor standing beside the half-packed suitcase he'd foolishly left peeking just out from underneath his bed.

Oh yes. This would _definitely_ be more painful. Proving yet again that hoping and praying were for suckers.

_Where is God now, with His two children crying here alone?_

"You're leaving."

Funny how a simple statement could sound so _threatening_. Ed could only nod helplessly.

"And I... I'm not coming with you. Am I."

No question there, either. Again, Ed simply shook his head.

That armored head bent. Ed wanted to reach out, to touch, to comfort with his body because _dammit_ the right words had never come to him when he needed them, not _ever_-

But Al was already turning away, facing the wall.

"Al," he whispered, "Al, I-"

"You _lied_ to me, brother."

That stopped Ed cold.

"Al, wha-"

"You _lied_ to me. You said it would be me and you, always. You swore you'd never – you swore we'd get our bodies back _together_." And then, as though it were the truth of the world-

"You _lied_."

_Yes Al I lied – because I _had_ to – don't you see – I love you – that's why I lied-_

He took a step forward, and faltered.

_I didn't lie to you _then_ – I lied on the train – why can't you see that – are you blind-_

_Have I blinded you?_

He reached out one hand, touched trembling fingers to Al's armored back. Wondered if Al could feel it, and knew that he kind of _could_ (whether just because of a change in air pressure behind him or what, something he could _sense_ if not quite _feel_ with his skin-that-wasn't-actually-skin) because Al pulled away. Just a tiny bit. Just enough to hurt.

And that was how Ed knew, really, that he was doing the right thing. He had to be. Or else what was he doing this for?

_It wouldn't hurt so much unless it had to be done. Like lancing a wound, a snakebite, so the poison doesn't kill you._

_Please, Al. Don't ask me to stay here. Don't ask me to poison you._

"I... I'm sorry, Al."

And that wasn't a lie. But Al stayed turned away, not looking at him.

Ed moved back; moved away. Screw the suitcase – he didn't need any of his things. He was leaving the most important part of him behind anyway.

"I..."

_I'll be back for you – I swear I will – when I can be clean for you – when I can stop thinking of doing things to you that would make Mom hate me – do you understand Al? – I love her too-_

"I'll be back for you."

And maybe that _was_ a lie. But that was okay. He figured they both deserved such a little one.

He turned his back, and went out the door. When it closed behind him, he thought he heard Al sob.

_That's stupid. Al can't cry._

But he thought he understood. He couldn't cry, either-

But he did. On the inside.

Where no one could see, no one could judge – the same place he hid all his other shameful things. Like lust. And frailty. And all his many failures.

And most hidden of all, the memory of one soft, loving voice, imploring him as he followed his little brother out the door to play-

_Watch after him, Ed, won't you?_

"I swear I will, Mother," he murmured to a memory. "The only way I know how."

He straightened his shoulders, and began the long, slow walk to the train station, alone.

--_fini_--


End file.
